Chiloe: islands and Chiloe continental

[Penta]

This is the last set I'm going to inflict on you from this trip.

We took a four-day voyage on the good ship Catiao, from Marina Quinched near Chonchi, Chiloe main island. Mr Penta, me, four Chilean friends (who'd arranged it all for us), two crew, Don Millo and Joel, one of his sons, and Felipe, a trainee guide on a work placement, who was learning mostly from us, since we'd done the first part of this trip before.

The Catiao (not exactly the 5-star hotel Flipflop seems determined is the only sort of place I'd be staying in Chile):


We sailed first to the island of Mechuque, where we've been before. It is much run down since our last visit 4 years ago, in contrast to the main island, which is much more prosperous, as a result of the rash of salmoneras on every lake on and inlet round the islands. Presumably the men have mostly gone off to work on the fish farms.


Almost all the houses are wooden, with walls and some roofs covered in hand-made shingles. I took photos of a selection of the different patterns. Here's one:


We stayed the first night here, then set off past the Islas Butancuras and through the Canal Cauquenes, before crossing the Golfo de Ancud to the mainland. There was a strong south wind and the sea was a bit choppy, but waves of only about a metre. The boat was designed for the shallow canals and the islands though, not open sea, with a very shallow draught and we were crossing lateral waves, so she rolled like the proverbial pig. Some of our friends were very seasick. This is some time later, when we'd been in calmer waters for a couple of hours at least:


At the mainland we passed this lobera:


to enter a long fjord, about 20 miles long, the Fiordo Conau or Leptepu, here:

[Penta]

That same day we chugged right down the fjord to the far end. Virgin forest plunges down right to the sea on both sides; snow-capped mountains and volcanoes and the remains of glaciers; dozens of waterfalls.







Much of the land on our left belongs to Douglas Tompkins, the former owner of Esprit clothing company. He is a strong conservationist and has turned the land into Parque Pumalín. He's controversial in Chile for what some people consider his fundamentalist views on any form of development in his park, among other things, but on the whole I think he's on the side of the angels.

http://www.parquepumalin.cl/content/eng/index.htm

At the far end of the fjord, on the right, and not part of the park, are the Termas de Porcelana.


With permission from the seniora who lives nearby and a small fee, you can stroll through this Sound of Music-lookalike meadow:


and up through the woods to the hot spring pools:


About 20 yards away, through the wood


is this river fed by ice-melt


so you can spend your afternoon doing the full hot soakand cold plunge thing.

Giant ferns on the riverbank:


We had a late-afternoon siesta in the meadow, while the seniora was baking us some fresh bread. Then back to the Catiao where we spent the second night.

[Wayne]

Nice shots.

Those hot springs look pretty good right now. It's snowing out again and will continue until tomorrow AM. My driveway is icing over again...grrrrrr.

[Penta]

The next day, bright and early, we set off back down the fjord, close to the entrance from the sea:


Into another branch:


There were seals everywhere, doing their early morning fishing:


At the far end are the Termas de Cahuelmó:


These are part of the Parque Pumalín, and there were a pair of young trainee guardaparques, just down from Santiago. The small pools in rock were far too hot, so they blocked off with clumps of earth some of the little channels carrying the water from the spring to allow them to cool down. I haven't got any anonymous photos, so you'll have to imagine it.

The end of the fjord here is very shallow, so the Catiao was anchored quite a long way out. We'd run out of petrol in the tender on the way there, and it took Don Millo a long time to row back to get more. In the meantime, the tide was racing out, so we had quite a trek across the streams and rapidly shrinking inlets to where he could reach us in the tender:


We were meant to be crossing back to the mainland that afternoon, but by now it was too late, and Don Millo had heard on his radio that the sea had got up quite a bit, so we anchored halfway down this little fjord, and most of our party spent the rest of the day at these waterfalls opposite:


I stayed on the boat for a bit of solitude. Instead, the outboard broke down on the way back across (I'd guess from the gunk when they'd run out of fuel), so I had a fine time watching them strip and reassemble and try again and strip and reassemble and try again, while I could see the waving yellow sarong on the other side when they were ready to come back, and could do nothing about it. Eventually the stranded party was rescued and we settled down for dinner and the night.

Meanwhile, Don Millo and Joel set off in the tender, destination unannounced and unknown, and hadn't returned long after the late southern nighfall. Naturally, we assumed the motor had broken again and they were doggedly rowing through the dark. One of the girls and Felipe were worried and tried calling them on the mobile set we assumed - wrongly, natch - they'd taken with them. But again, all was well, and they got back, claiming they'd just been chatting with the guardaparques at the springs, and proceeded to wake everyone who was asleep with very noisy preparations for our pre-dawn start. A comical day all in all.

[Penta]

OK. Nearly there. The crossing was unpleasant, but manageable. Those who'd been sick before took anti-seasickness pills thoughtfully provided by Felipe and they all huddled into the wheelhouse, concentrating hard on the horizon as instructed by Mr Penta and me, and were fine. That left no room for the two of us, so being seasoned sailors and stiff-upper-lip Brits we volunteered to stand outside at the back (there was a lot of spray at the front), where we made ourselves as comfortable as we could, braced against various surfaces which generally had sharp corners, and strapping down or holding all the bits that our crew had not made terribly safe in the middle of the night after their jaunt. And after a fairly bruising 5 or 6 hours we were back with the calm channels and sleepy islands.

Achao, I think, or possibly Alao, two neighbouring islands with wonderful calm and protected inlets (not exactly harbours):


Then Quehui (where the photo of Catiao at a jetty in the first post was taken). Its church and village green:


Chiloe and its islands are famous for their wooden churches. Inside this one:


The supermarket is in the middle of the picture:



And that was it. A fantastic trip, and though some who were sick had sworn they were never going on any boat ever again, even they agreed the mainland fjords were a treat worth pretty much any discomfort and they'd do it again.

Our home from home on Chiloe main island (rather more what Flipflop was expecting, and where he and his missus might have stayed too if he'd not been so dismissive of my offer of friendly contacts):






Alpaca in the field between the house and the lake:


Still messing about in boats:

[Stiv]

Wow! Nice, thanks!

Best,
Stiv

[Hitoru]

Sweet ! I sure would like to do a extended stay there. Thanks for sharing.

[Slam]

Nice photos. Stunning region.

[Chimborazo]

Thanks for sharing, Penta. It's beautiful.

[Penta]

It is. I think Chile has almost everything anyone could want. All it lacks is warm sea or lakes (all the hot springs are some compensation) and a cool city.

[svizzerams]

lovely lovely lovely - looks a bit like parts of the Washington or BC coast. Also cold water.

Wonderful to see those as well.

[Bronco]

lovely lovely lovely - looks a bit like parts of the Washington or BC coast. Also cold water.
Wonderful to see those as well.

That's what I was going to say. My guess is that they are pretty close to the same latitude as the San Juan and Queen Charlotte Islands.
It certainly sounds and looks like an awesome vacation.
Thanks for showing us.